


The Purloined Uniform

by Batrice



Category: Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry
Genre: CULPRIT SPOILERS, F/M, Hand Jobs, Maid uniform, Oral Sex, The Only Valid Heteros, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26945350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batrice/pseuds/Batrice
Summary: Inside of the master bedroom of Rokkenjima’s opulent manor, a great and powerful game master beheld the Fukuin house uniform, his blush almost as bright red as his hair. Looking nervously towards his wife, he pleaded with her.“Beato, I don’t know if- ““Baaattler, you promiiised that you’d do whatever I wanted to make up for last year’s ‘halloween surprise!”“H-hold on, how was I supposed to – I thought you meant, like, I’d fix the roof, or…”Battler wears a maid uniform and tries to make up for past mistakes to his wife, who isn't sure whether she wants to get her rocks off or bully him.
Relationships: Beatrice the Golden Witch/Ushiromiya Battler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	The Purloined Uniform

Inside of the master bedroom of Rokkenjima’s opulent manor, a great and powerful game master beheld the Fukuin house uniform, his blush almost as bright red as his hair. Looking nervously towards his wife, he pleaded with her. 

“Beato, I don’t know if- “

“Baaattler, you promiiised that you’d do whatever I wanted to make up for last year’s ‘halloween surprise!”

“H-hold on, how was I supposed to – I thought you meant, like, I’d fix the roof, or…”

Beatrice pouted, her eyes already welling up with crocodile tears. Battler knew that if he didn’t acquiesce, she would wheedle him for hours. Sighing, he unfastened his cape, delicately placing it on the bed behind him, unbuttoned his jacket, removed the vest underneath… his beloved’s hungry stare easily conveyed a request for him to pick up the pace, and before long all of his clothes were neatly folded onto a pile next to him, the only thing still adorning the sorcerer his sheepish grin.

Holding the outfit in his hands, Beato let out a long cackle. 

“Well? How do you like it? Shannon’s not going to be missing it any time soon, kyahahaha!”

Battler fixed her with a worried glare. It was slowly sinking in that Beatrice’s assurances (in red, dammit!) that he wouldn’t have to wear panties were yet another bit of wordplay. Battler would be going commando, and his fragile ego mounted a counter-offensive towards his once and eternal tormentor.

“How the hell did you even get into this every day? And didn’t you swap uniforms with Kanon’s pretty often? There’s like, a belt along the leg… And these stockings, or are these part of the shoe- “

A clap of thunder rang out across the island. Beato’s smile, in the same instant, morphed into an impetuous sneer. 

“You’re going to find out. And if you can’t, then I’ll make sure to send some help… it’s been an awful long time since that oh-so-great detective last visited, I’m sure she’d just _relish_ the opportunity~”

A chill ran down Battler’s spine. The uniform practically flew on, every snag in his dressing quickly explicated by the witch. Despite herself, she couldn’t resist sending a few genuine compliments his way – the dress, in fact, was quite fetching on him.

Battler soon stood in front of his wife fully garbed in her old clothes. The poor fabric strained and sagged; its cut clearly not meant for somebody with a masculine body type. 

A part of Beato wanted to relish in the sight, but she had plans – plans that required plenty of stretching the fabric, and her sentimental side didn’t want anything to rip or tear. A stream of golden butterflies streamed from her pipe, floating towards her embarrassed husband.

The uniform was soon covered in a shimmering sheath of golden butterflies, tailoring the uniform to Battler’s specifications. All-too-quickly, they flew off, and Battler felt naked once more. Beatrice’s smile grew wider, and she couldn’t resist asking something she knew the answer to. 

“Battler, what’s this I see? Are you getting into the spirit of things?”  
“What’re you talking about? Th-there’s nothing I like about this!”

Despite his protestations, the tent lifting up the front of the dress was a resounding rebuttal, standing taller and prouder than any red truth Beatrice could ever hope to bring to bear against him. The blatant, embarrassing contradiction proved too much for even the esteemed witch, and she bent over laughing.

“Oh, you damnable fool! I wanted to- kyahaha! I wanted to run you around the house, dusting things, serving me food… but you’re just so… so _cute_ in this!” Battler’s wife fixed him with a worryingly lewd smile as she gestured for him to sit on the bed.

He obligingly sat down, only for his wife to pin him to the bed. She hungrily unbuttoned a few of the buttons along the front and snaked a hand atop his chest. Resting a finger over his nipple, she lazily traced along his areola.

“We’ve tried nipple play before, I’m not sensitive like tha- nh!”

Beatrice cackled, “Ah, but just for tonight, I will give you a gift!”

Two butterflies flew out from the gap in the buttons, and Battler realized the extent to which Beatrice had planned this night. A sorcery that granted a singular body part that much sensitivity, made without his notice, applied to him at some indeterminate point beneath his perception? 

Any inklings of terror at his wife were drowned out by the feeling of her fingers wrapping around his dick. The gap in Shannon’s dress proved beneficial for this purpose, and Beato made her intent far from obvious. Gently stroking his length, she innocently looked towards a nearby mirror; any shudder, any change in Battler’s facial expressions or posture, and she nigh-imperceptibly slowed her pace. 

Eventually, however, Battler cottoned onto this scheme, and his initial groans of earnest pleasure slowly gave way to more desperate pleas. 

“G-goddammit, please! I can’t take this! Just take your hand off, or let me cum alreadyyy!”

Stifling a cackle, Beatrice replied “Battler, you married Beatrice, The Endless Witch! A thousand years I waited for you, and you can’t repay that with ten minutes of sheer pleasure?”

Her hand did free his cock from its torment, but she playfully dove back into Battler’s chest; pinching and pulling, his moans came apace. Just as his dick began to excitedly twitch and throb, portending orgasm, Beatrice finally ceased her attack.

“Off the bed, Battler, and on your knee.” 

Her own dress had become noticeably tented by Battler’s display, and as Battler dutifully got down on one knee, she fished her dick free from its panties. Her dress shimmered and burst into a thousand thousand butterflies, a trick that Battler had found startling the first few times that she pulled it. By now, Battler had turned his focus towards the more important display – her cock, standing unhindered.

Forcing himself to pull his gaze away from it, he moved for Beato’s chest. There, he planted a delicate kiss upon each of her breasts, eliciting a shallow gasp both times. 

“What, surprised I did that without you asking?”

“Y-you idiot! You’re just- your lips are just cold, that’s all!”

Ignoring her childlike pout, Battler continued with a steady stream of kisses ever-downwards, eventually placing his lips on her mound, directly above her rod. By now, Beatrice had put her hands over her face, a desperate and failed plot to hide the blush in full bloom creeping across her cheeks.

“Beato, honey, what do you want me to do now?”

“You know _exactly_ what I want you to do, you…!”

Battler slowly ran a single finger along the top of her penis, smiling as a small drip of precum slowly dripped out.

“B-Baaattler, I won’t forget this…! I w- I want you to suck my dick!”

Battler obliged her within moments, prompting another quiet moan from the golden witch. Battler’s first attempts at fellatio had been… of questionable quality, but with time and practice he slowly learned what his wife liked.

“Mmph~”

A grunt from Battler mirrored Beatrice’s pleasure. Battler fully hilted her length, and his beloved’s hand gently pressing against the back of his head gave him the go-ahead to start bobbing his head back and forth. 

Beatrice found herself balling up the bedsheets in her fists, softly moaning and groaning as Battler’s soft mouth and tongue assaulted her cock. Slowly, her hips began to thrust into her husband’s mouth, sending her dick further down his throat.

To the lovers, their copulation had crystallized – one single, golden moment that lasted eternal. However, even this infinite must end, and eventually Beatrice cried out.

“Battler, I’m gonna-“

Her hips ceased to rock, her hands unclenched, and Battler was promptly hacking up cum in a nearby scotch glass.

“Beato, please – you know I hate swallowing! Warn me better next time, please…”

“Whaaaat? You’re acting like it’s my fault you give such _wicked good head_!”

“It absolutely is! Without you I’d have never sucked anything like that in my life!”

“And your life would be much poorer for it! You should thank me for such wonderful teaching.”

“I-I tried! Last year!”

“ _Last year you told me to wear one of the Stakes’ uniforms and to, in your words, ‘grow a tight pussy with your butterflies, babe!_ ”

“W-well, I was going to, uh, show you that… your teaching me how to service your dick, it was so good, that, I, I couldn’t give you anything like it if you were…”

“If I was…?”

Beatrice’s eyes narrowed. Battler knew he had stepped on a landmine, and desperately flailed to try and rectify the events his sozzled self a year prior had set into motion. 

“If you were anything less than my beautiful, magical, one-of-a-kind witch.”

“Hmph. Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“I mean it! There isn’t a single woman on this earth who’s even close to like you. I had a lot of girls before I met you, I should kno-“

As the slap rang out across his face, Battler’s grin only widened. He knew he had it coming, and Beatrice was trying _so hard_ to look angry instead of bemused. As silence fell between the two, he took it as an opportunity to crawl under the bedsheets, waiting for his wife to join him.

“Also, uh, if you think about it… if this was just me being shallow, I’d have complained about the fact that you never let me cum, but I-“

As another clap of thunder blotted out whatever Battler planned to say, Beatrice locked lips with him. Their kiss stretched on for long seconds that felt like hours, and when Beatrice finally let go, she crawled into bed next to him. Locking into an embrace, Battler’s clothes slowly faded off of him, folding themselves in a nearby cabinet.

As the two drifted off into a dreamless sleep, their evening slowly faded from memory into tale, penned by the witch and cast into the sea of fragments, her beautiful husband quietly praying that none would ever come across _this_ particular fragment of their love.

**Author's Note:**

> First time posting here and first time doing writing in general since like, last April, feel free to tell me in the comments how I can be less bad or what I should focus on to be marginally better.


End file.
